Even though I prefer the word 'arrival,' this is really a birth story. I always enjoy reading others' birth stories as long as they don't get too heavy into the icky details. This is to say, don't worry, no disgusting details to follow here. And now it is my turn to add to the conversation:
I don't mean to sound like a smug jerk or anything, but I couldn't have asked for a better birth experience. Which is really awesome, right? If you want a dramatic birth story, hop on over to my account of my firstborn's birth.
Maybe that is where this birth story really starts, in the aftermath of my firstborn's. I carried a lot of fear and bitterness around afterwards. Not only was birth difficult, so we're the first 3 months, but that is for another post entirely. The point is, I thought I'd never do it again. But I'm here to say that I'm so glad I didn't let fear take this incredible experience from me.
From the first positive pregnancy test, I knew I was going to do things differently. First off, get a new OB because I no longer trusted my old one. This was the best decision, by far. I only regret not switching sooner!
Secondly, worry less. Easier said than done. I was kind of counting on the old adage, "Every pregnancy is different," because I didn't want a repeat of my first go around. So my wonderful OB's threw in some extra testing to set my mind at ease. Namely, a fetal echocardiogram with a specialist because Mr. Q was born with not 1 but 3 holes in his heart (ASD, VSD, and a PDA for all you heart experts reading! Don't worry after a minor--psshhh, of course he made it dramatic!--procedure at 22 months his ticker is perfectly fine). No worries, right? I worried until the day of the test, then we were blessed with amazing news: everything was normal this time. Huge sigh of relief! Not that we didn't know how to handle these hiccups now anyways!!
Then came the dreaded glucose test, which I was unable to pass--again! But this time it was because I couldn't keep the drink down!! Seriously, it feels like drinking poison to me. Anyway, it was a huge bummer because, like I mentioned before, I wanted this pregnancy to be different. I blamed Q's respiratory issues at birth on diabetic problems and insulin dependence. I didn't want to go down that road again. And my wonderful OBs agreed. No insulin, just moderate diet control (but still daily pricking of the finger mainly because I refused to take the glucose test again...I'm not a difficult patient or anything!) They weren't worried about it though, so neither was I. That was how it was different from the last time. No one was trying to scare me by telling me that I might have a stillborn baby if I didn't take my insulin. Because, seriously? That practice was horrible! Anyone can have a stillborn baby, not just diabetics, so unless those 'doctors' think it's cool to go around saying that to ALL pregnant women--c'mon we are hard enough on ourselves--they'd better zip their lips or all their patients are going to be crying in their cars on their way home from their appointments. Whew, glad I got that out!! Again new OB practice = best decision for a healthy pregnancy.
Then came the (false alarm) day 11.11.14. which is funny because even though I was due on 11.20, I told everyone I just had a feeling it would be 11.11...it wasn't a feeling, I just liked the numbers and wanted to be done being pregnant by then!
After calling in and being recommended to L&D (which they now call OB ED, totally different situation over there from last time), I was hooked up, checked out and sent home. This was actually ok with me, though, because I obviously had some issues to deal with about giving birth and it dawned on me suddenly that I was not ready. It's ok, I told myself, I'll probably be pregnant until December. Plenty of time to swallow my fear and bitterness and keep on not dealing with it. Easy peasy.
Went home, ordered pizza for dinner, instagrammed my toddler eating it. Normal Tuesday stuff, ya know? Cuddled up on the couch and watched some movies without any hint of contractions that night. Slept like a baby!
I woke up exhausted and crampy on Wednesday morning, 11.12. But I thought, what's new? I'll tell you what's new...by the time I finished making my toddler breakfast I was in tears from my tummy pain! I made myself eat some toast and then begrudgingly called in again thinking, I'm going to be that crazy woman who is in there everyday until I give birth (which will be a long ways away!). I didn't know the signs of labor because I was induced the first time.
So again I drive myself to L&D around 10:30 AM. In hindsight, not smart, but we live really close to the hospital so if my contractions were 6 min apart I about made it (note: they should have reserved parking spaces "for mothers who are in labor and were stupid enough to drive themselves").
They hooked me up and this time I was 2cm dialated and my contractions were anywhere from 2 to 6 minutes apart. So they decided to keep me an hour and check again before deciding whether or not to send me home. So a little after noon and hour of pure agony, I had made progress!! The OB on call said we were having a baby today! Of course I cried a little! Because I was all alone and having a baby is scary and also my tummy hurt, that was probably a small part of it too. Then I got it in my mind I better text my husband and tell him to haul-butt up to the hospital! Sometimes? You just need a good cry while your in active labor to clear your mind. It was all business from there on out.
Eddie finally made it--he had to grab all my bags because I was obviously not prepared for it to be the day. Close to 1pm, they moved me to this labor and delivery room with a beautiful view!
We had a great nurse. I'm kind of ageist when it comes to this. By that I mean, the older the better. I'm not calling this nurse old or anything like that, haha! It's hard to put it nicely!! But this is absolutely a bias I have; I recognize that. I want a mature,experienced nurse (same goes for doctors) who knows what to say when you are freaking out, not just "why are you crying?!"--that happened. All I'm saying is... at least be older than me, OK? So we really got lucky because she was the absolute best.
By 2pm I had all my IVs hooked up. One with penicillin because I was positive for group b strep. They like to give 2 doses of it over several hours before the baby is born, otherwise your baby has to stay the full 48 in the hospital for observation (basically temperature checks every 4 hours just like any other baby). And I had a little pain reliever through IV too. That was a nice little cocktail.
Next, I wanted an epidural. So that happened around 3 pm. They were on the ball. In the hospital, usually there's a lot of waiting around, but it didn't feel like it this time.
The doctor and nurse promised a drama-free experience this time around and, boy, did they deliver!! (Couldn't resist that pun).
Around 4:30 pm, I told the nurse I felt like it was time to push. She checked me and I was good to go but she couldn't feel the head (me: panicking!!). She ran--actually ran--to grab the ultrasound machine from the OR, because the doc was prepping for a c-section. He was so busy that day, I think he delivered 4 other babies!
Turned out, Felicity was still head down. But my water had not broken yet, so the doc was called in to do that. Eddie said that when the doctor reported the waters were nice and clear, I actually fist-pumped the air and yelled 'Yesss!' like I was at a sporting event or something. I was so excited because that was not the case last time and I knew how serious things could get.
Then the doc ran out to catch some babies down the hall and told the nurse to let me 'labor down.' But I had to push so she called him back after only 5 minutes.
It was probably 4:45 pm at this point. And dear little Felicity was born at 5:11 pm!! It went so quickly, I only remember the last push hurt pretty bad, regardless of the epidural and I said "I just can't!" Typical me, trying to abandon the task at hand because it's too hard. Turns out you don't get to be like that when you're having a baby!!
But it was so sweet when they placed that screaming, sweet bundle on my chest (a first for me!). I was so nervous that when she calmed down and stopped crying, I kept asking "is she ok? How come she's so quiet!" And the doctor laughed and said, she's just happy! Which was perfect.
She was only about a 37.5 week baby, which is now considered 'early term' so the doctor was very surprised at how chunky she was! 7 lbs 14 oz. She was just ready to take on the world, I guess.
Our nurse said she was super cute and didn't look like a newborn...it's the hair! Maybe she was just humoring us, but when it's was time to move to a Mother-Baby room, she sweetly hugged Felicity goodbye and said, "I'll remember you for a long time Felicity!" God bless our nurse!
Around 8 pm, when I was ready to eat and move, Eddie brought me a bagel and orange juice from Panera for my first meal...oh how I missed those carbs and sugary juices, but I really haven't had any since. I guess you only miss it when you can't have it.
We were so over the moon happy, that I barely realized she came too fast for my penicillin drip to finish! But 48 hours was nothing compared to the 7 day NICU stay last time. Felicity's sugars were perfect, though.
I am so grateful Felicity was a good nurser, like she could have taught a newborn class on it. Girl can eat!
Eddie stayed at home with Q overnight, but the night nurses were wonderful and took Felicity to the nursery in between feedings so I could sleep and they could re wash and comb and play with Felicity's hair...seriously, so much of it! Felicity also has this really loud squawk/cry. So I could hear her being wheeled down the hall every time she was ready to eat. Sorry, hospital room neighbors!
The next day she had her newborn tests. But she failed her hearing (she eventually passed after a re-test). Apparently, she was born so quickly she still had a lot of fluid in her. She was also quite the sneezer for this reason too!
Finally it was discharge night, 11.14.12. It was cold and dark, completely different from sunny and 60s when I went in. Well, everything was completely different than when I went in.
I can't tell you how happy I was to be leaving the hospital carrying a new baby in my arms instead of some congratulatory plant like the last time.
And that is the story (and then some) of the wonderful, miraculous night you were born, Felicity!!
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Little love notes.
Dear Quent,
I can't believe it! You are halfway to 4. Wow. I love you more and more as you are growing into a 'little boy.' Your big boy haircut makes you look even more mature. I love how sometimes you blurt out these crazy mature insights like they're just on the tip of your tongue and then other times you take your time to think things through before you answer our questions.
I love your thoughtfulness. I love your imagination. I love how easily you give out compliments: "You're a beautiful girl!" or, "You're a good baby," you say every single day to Felicity.
"You're a a good, Mom," and "You're the best Dad!" you say pretty often...
I love that you can fall in love with so many things! You are enthusiastic about everything (especially doing all the things "all by myself!" which is awesome). People should be like you!
Love your hugs and cuddles, sweet boy.
Xoxo,
Mommy
Dear Felicity,
How much did I just love writing that, Dear Felicity! I could say it all day, sweet girl, dear Felicity. We are still getting to know each other, but I hope you love our little family as much as we love you! Your brother loves you so much. Your Daddy is already wrapped around your finger and you and I are good buddies.
We have so many hopes for you, but most of all we wish for you what your namesake suggests: Happiness!! And, so far so good, because you are smiley (and smelly...but that's true love!!)
Love and Happiness,
Mommy
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Whoah, baby! I'm back!!
Thanks, Timehop, for reminding today that I have a "baby blog." It was fun reminiscing about my then only child! Wow, it's been forever!!! 2 years ago, to be exact, I opened with this post about becoming a SAHM. I think it was that piece that got my writing in gear and I published several of my stories on the interwebs since then. After that, I took a break again, you know, if you calling having another baby a break.
Our family has changed and grown so much since I last stopped by the bloggity-blog. I hope I will have time to update it more regularly. Time is a blur with two babies, yet there is twice as much I want to capture and record. Maybe for Lent, I will try to make a commitment to exercise the ol' phalanges on the keyboard.
So, I'm not sure where this post is going other than to say that I'm back!
And that I live in leggings. It's a good day when I get to put on jeans. Most days I wear all of these things because I get spit up on. A lot.
Also, I think my kids are so beautiful and funny that I just don't know how they could be related to me. I'm sure all you Moms can relate! Must be the honeymoon phase, right? But I'm gonna chase that feeling. Yes, I am.
Sometimes I get this trippy feeling when I look at these two: Are they really here? How are they mine? It's not disbelief (I know they are really, REALLY, real and I am charged with their care...it's definitely apparent when they're up at 1 AM and/or I'm covered in spit-up). It's more like amazement. That's what 2 kids is like for me. Happy amazement. Scary amazement. Lonely amazement. Tired amazement.
K, thanks for reading!
Coming soon:
Felicity's birth story (because I'm trying to be fair here, and I want to remember it)!
Our family has changed and grown so much since I last stopped by the bloggity-blog. I hope I will have time to update it more regularly. Time is a blur with two babies, yet there is twice as much I want to capture and record. Maybe for Lent, I will try to make a commitment to exercise the ol' phalanges on the keyboard.
So, I'm not sure where this post is going other than to say that I'm back!
And that I live in leggings. It's a good day when I get to put on jeans. Most days I wear all of these things because I get spit up on. A lot.
Also, I think my kids are so beautiful and funny that I just don't know how they could be related to me. I'm sure all you Moms can relate! Must be the honeymoon phase, right? But I'm gonna chase that feeling. Yes, I am.
Sometimes I get this trippy feeling when I look at these two: Are they really here? How are they mine? It's not disbelief (I know they are really, REALLY, real and I am charged with their care...it's definitely apparent when they're up at 1 AM and/or I'm covered in spit-up). It's more like amazement. That's what 2 kids is like for me. Happy amazement. Scary amazement. Lonely amazement. Tired amazement.
K, thanks for reading!
Coming soon:
Felicity's birth story (because I'm trying to be fair here, and I want to remember it)!
Friday, May 24, 2013
21 Month Newsletter
Dear Son,
So this is l-a-t-e, but May has been CRAZY (more on that at a later date). We did manage to celebrate your 21 month marker and Mother's Day on the 13th though. We went to a local petting zoo and I got in free...what more could a Mom ask for?
But seriously, it is such a joy to watch you grow from a baby into a little boy. You are now 32 in. tall!! You can say "please" at appropriate times and actually ask me if you can eat geen-beens (green beans) for dinner. And in the evenings you often walk up to me and say, "Bubble bath?" (you can pronounce these two words exquisitely), even when you've already had one, and I oblige. Because, hey, why not allow you that joy? It's not everyday in life that we get to take two bubble baths. And did I mention that when I say it's time for a nap or night-night you DON'T cry?! What did I do to deserve this good fortune? It's the little things amongst all the crazy...
And your current obsession: SUPERHEROS. As soon as you wake up in the morning, you ask not for Mama or Dada, but 'Biderman aka Spiderman. I showed you the 1960's cartoon theme-song on YouTube and now you are hooked.
Anyways, thanks for being you kiddo!
So this is l-a-t-e, but May has been CRAZY (more on that at a later date). We did manage to celebrate your 21 month marker and Mother's Day on the 13th though. We went to a local petting zoo and I got in free...what more could a Mom ask for?
But seriously, it is such a joy to watch you grow from a baby into a little boy. You are now 32 in. tall!! You can say "please" at appropriate times and actually ask me if you can eat geen-beens (green beans) for dinner. And in the evenings you often walk up to me and say, "Bubble bath?" (you can pronounce these two words exquisitely), even when you've already had one, and I oblige. Because, hey, why not allow you that joy? It's not everyday in life that we get to take two bubble baths. And did I mention that when I say it's time for a nap or night-night you DON'T cry?! What did I do to deserve this good fortune? It's the little things amongst all the crazy...
And your current obsession: SUPERHEROS. As soon as you wake up in the morning, you ask not for Mama or Dada, but 'Biderman aka Spiderman. I showed you the 1960's cartoon theme-song on YouTube and now you are hooked.
Anyways, thanks for being you kiddo!
| Bears are still a favorite
Love,
Mom
|
Saturday, April 13, 2013
20 Month Newsletter
Dear Son,
The best part about Spring is that stuff you previously believed to be dead and gone--like the craggy tufts of dried debris in our potted plants--are actually alive. One undetermined day the grass turns from brown to verdant green. The bare tree branches have brand new leaves--ones so green they look yellow. Spring is the moment when you suddenly see things, in my opinion, the way they are meant to be seen. The Spring season lasts for a few months, but the imperceptible act of "spring" seems so fleeting. I wish I could capture this moment for you.
Today is your 20 month birthday (woah!). It's great it falls on a Saturday because you, me and Dad spent all day together. We hung out at home, outside. We threw the ball. We looked at earth worms and you laughed--that infectious one where your whole body shakes like a bowl full of jelly--when Dad showed you how to spit off the deck (so grown). Now, inside we play with Star Wars and Marvel hero figurines. Oh, and a cow and a zebra. We'll probably even eat your favorite food (pizza) tonight. It's been pretty much (barring your new penchant for rising early on the weekends) the perfect day.
I often wish I could capture SO MANY moments because you are growing and changing so quickly. Always smarter, funnier, more handsome, more vocal than the moment before. And every time I get you out of your crib after nap time you are somehow heavier and more limb-y in my arms than just a few hours before.
That is life son; things they are a changin'. You will always be our blessing. It is such a pleasure to be your parent.
And since they say a picture is worth a thousand words, here are a few shots from today:
Love,
Mom
The best part about Spring is that stuff you previously believed to be dead and gone--like the craggy tufts of dried debris in our potted plants--are actually alive. One undetermined day the grass turns from brown to verdant green. The bare tree branches have brand new leaves--ones so green they look yellow. Spring is the moment when you suddenly see things, in my opinion, the way they are meant to be seen. The Spring season lasts for a few months, but the imperceptible act of "spring" seems so fleeting. I wish I could capture this moment for you.
Today is your 20 month birthday (woah!). It's great it falls on a Saturday because you, me and Dad spent all day together. We hung out at home, outside. We threw the ball. We looked at earth worms and you laughed--that infectious one where your whole body shakes like a bowl full of jelly--when Dad showed you how to spit off the deck (so grown). Now, inside we play with Star Wars and Marvel hero figurines. Oh, and a cow and a zebra. We'll probably even eat your favorite food (pizza) tonight. It's been pretty much (barring your new penchant for rising early on the weekends) the perfect day.
I often wish I could capture SO MANY moments because you are growing and changing so quickly. Always smarter, funnier, more handsome, more vocal than the moment before. And every time I get you out of your crib after nap time you are somehow heavier and more limb-y in my arms than just a few hours before.
That is life son; things they are a changin'. You will always be our blessing. It is such a pleasure to be your parent.
And since they say a picture is worth a thousand words, here are a few shots from today:
Love,
Mom
Friday, March 29, 2013
If Morning Ever Comes
Dear Son,
Remember when I wrote about Dad having a cold? Well, you and I have just returned from the Pediatrician's office, and you have croup. Again. Seems it's your regular affliction. It could be worse. You've been in good spirits so far and right now you are napping beside me on the couch, peacefully propped-up on a pillow. Where I can listen to every snore and whistle and determine if intervention is necessary. I took a picture of you and sent it to your Dad, because you are just too cute when you're snoozing.
But this is not how I felt at 5 A.M., when Dad and I crawled, on all fours, into your darkened room to listen to you breathe after we were awakened by wheezing and a weak coughing coming from the baby monitor. We equipped ourselves with an albuterol neb treatment and crept slowly, slowly, slowly into the dark, mechanical whir that is your room at night, with the cool-mist humidifier and the ceiling fan lulling you to sleep in a carefully air-aquality controlled environment.
And with the flick of the nebulizer's ON switch you were awake. Cheerfully, so. You sat and greeted your Dad, who was trying to sneak the child sized mask through your crib railing, with a happy, "Aye!" We hit the deck, frozen in terror, like wild animals who have sensed the presence of Man in the woods. You have impeccable night-vision. Then louder, almost shouting, comes "Aye!" A warning, a siren ready to wail. And all hope for a complete, if not good, nights sleep is lost.
So for two dim hours, you and I sit in the recliner in your room, rocking and singing, rocking and singing. You snoozing fitfully for a few minutes, me enduring knees in my rib-cage, an elbow shoved forcefully under my chin. Then you startle, sit up, point to something I can't see and proclaim, "Beee!" The wee hours can make anyone a little loopy. More rocking and humming, too early to remember the words to anything. Yes, even the ABCs. Sweat has matted your hair to your forehead and your batman pajamas are wrinkled and stretched. Evidence of a fitful night's sleep. I fiddle with the neck of your tee-shirt, sure that if I can get it to lay just right I can ease your breathing. We rearrange in the recliner. Try to sleep. Elbow. Ribcage. Repeat.
It reminds me of my favorite Anne Tyler novel, If Morning Ever Comes. The narrator, Ben Joe, is the youngest brother of a large, female-centric, dysfunctional (is there any other kind?), Southern family. The novel gets its title, specifically, from a scene the narrator remembers: He spends the night before a big Farmers Market/State Fair/Tractor Show next to a farmer and his disabled son who have just set up their stall. The son is so excited for the big hoopla the next day that he asks his father as soon as they lay down to sleep, and with increasing frequency, "Is it morning yet?" Over and over again. Finally, the boy's father gets up and packs up, exclaiming "If morning ever comes!" The narrator, less specifically, applies this adage to his own family drama, which always seems to happen in the middle of the night--someone leaving, someone coming, someone fighting, and no one in their bed where or when they're supposed to be. Oh, how life mimics art!!
So in the familiar dread of the "wee" hours, inevitable with any child (as your kind doctors have said: It's not if they get sick but when...), I find myself thinking that morning will never come, and if it ever does, can't it come sooner?! Because, somehow, having a sick child seems less daunting when it's light outside. Maybe for the same reason that kids (like you!) sleep with a night-light; things seem a little less scary when you shed a little light on them.
And all of this happened on Good Friday, no less (not really a "good" day--the day we remember that Jesus was crucified and died on the cross--more of a somber day). You could take "good" to signify the good news that Jesus died for our sins so that all who believe him may live or you could just have a little faith that morning WILL come and everything will be A-OK.
I hope you'll be on the mend pronto!
Love you (even in the wee hours),
Mom
Remember when I wrote about Dad having a cold? Well, you and I have just returned from the Pediatrician's office, and you have croup. Again. Seems it's your regular affliction. It could be worse. You've been in good spirits so far and right now you are napping beside me on the couch, peacefully propped-up on a pillow. Where I can listen to every snore and whistle and determine if intervention is necessary. I took a picture of you and sent it to your Dad, because you are just too cute when you're snoozing.
But this is not how I felt at 5 A.M., when Dad and I crawled, on all fours, into your darkened room to listen to you breathe after we were awakened by wheezing and a weak coughing coming from the baby monitor. We equipped ourselves with an albuterol neb treatment and crept slowly, slowly, slowly into the dark, mechanical whir that is your room at night, with the cool-mist humidifier and the ceiling fan lulling you to sleep in a carefully air-aquality controlled environment.
And with the flick of the nebulizer's ON switch you were awake. Cheerfully, so. You sat and greeted your Dad, who was trying to sneak the child sized mask through your crib railing, with a happy, "Aye!" We hit the deck, frozen in terror, like wild animals who have sensed the presence of Man in the woods. You have impeccable night-vision. Then louder, almost shouting, comes "Aye!" A warning, a siren ready to wail. And all hope for a complete, if not good, nights sleep is lost.
So for two dim hours, you and I sit in the recliner in your room, rocking and singing, rocking and singing. You snoozing fitfully for a few minutes, me enduring knees in my rib-cage, an elbow shoved forcefully under my chin. Then you startle, sit up, point to something I can't see and proclaim, "Beee!" The wee hours can make anyone a little loopy. More rocking and humming, too early to remember the words to anything. Yes, even the ABCs. Sweat has matted your hair to your forehead and your batman pajamas are wrinkled and stretched. Evidence of a fitful night's sleep. I fiddle with the neck of your tee-shirt, sure that if I can get it to lay just right I can ease your breathing. We rearrange in the recliner. Try to sleep. Elbow. Ribcage. Repeat.
It reminds me of my favorite Anne Tyler novel, If Morning Ever Comes. The narrator, Ben Joe, is the youngest brother of a large, female-centric, dysfunctional (is there any other kind?), Southern family. The novel gets its title, specifically, from a scene the narrator remembers: He spends the night before a big Farmers Market/State Fair/Tractor Show next to a farmer and his disabled son who have just set up their stall. The son is so excited for the big hoopla the next day that he asks his father as soon as they lay down to sleep, and with increasing frequency, "Is it morning yet?" Over and over again. Finally, the boy's father gets up and packs up, exclaiming "If morning ever comes!" The narrator, less specifically, applies this adage to his own family drama, which always seems to happen in the middle of the night--someone leaving, someone coming, someone fighting, and no one in their bed where or when they're supposed to be. Oh, how life mimics art!!
So in the familiar dread of the "wee" hours, inevitable with any child (as your kind doctors have said: It's not if they get sick but when...), I find myself thinking that morning will never come, and if it ever does, can't it come sooner?! Because, somehow, having a sick child seems less daunting when it's light outside. Maybe for the same reason that kids (like you!) sleep with a night-light; things seem a little less scary when you shed a little light on them.
And all of this happened on Good Friday, no less (not really a "good" day--the day we remember that Jesus was crucified and died on the cross--more of a somber day). You could take "good" to signify the good news that Jesus died for our sins so that all who believe him may live or you could just have a little faith that morning WILL come and everything will be A-OK.
I hope you'll be on the mend pronto!
Love you (even in the wee hours),
Mom
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
19 Month Newsletter
Dear Son,
Today marks our 19 month anniversary! For most, a monthly newsletter written to a baby (that sounds a little silly) would include things like important milestones. Not here. Milestones, though exciting, are too medical and if you've read anything I've written this far--you know I have a distaste (and that's using kind words) for anything medical.
Yes, this month was the month you learned to kick a ball, shush people, run (head first), and scale things to a moderately terrifying height (the coffee table and couches). You also got ANOTHER pair of shoes. And did I mention that you've shown interest in drinking out of a wide-mouthed cup? At dinnertime, you often remove the straw from your sippy cup, bring cup to lips, and tip the thing upward (just had to brag a little).
Now, onto the more important things we've been doing this month: Star Wars.
Today marks our 19 month anniversary! For most, a monthly newsletter written to a baby (that sounds a little silly) would include things like important milestones. Not here. Milestones, though exciting, are too medical and if you've read anything I've written this far--you know I have a distaste (and that's using kind words) for anything medical.
Yes, this month was the month you learned to kick a ball, shush people, run (head first), and scale things to a moderately terrifying height (the coffee table and couches). You also got ANOTHER pair of shoes. And did I mention that you've shown interest in drinking out of a wide-mouthed cup? At dinnertime, you often remove the straw from your sippy cup, bring cup to lips, and tip the thing upward (just had to brag a little).
Now, onto the more important things we've been doing this month: Star Wars.
| I spy, with my little eye...a box turtle!! |
You, me, and Dad viewed A New Hope a couple of weekends ago and we had a blast. We had to fast forward through some slow scenes (only to finish before bedtime, because you have an excellent attention span. There's just so much to brag about). Result: You are obsessed with R2D2. And your Dad found some pretty cool figurines that you take everywhere now, replacing your poor old Buddha.
You've also developed a unique set of skills. For instance, you can turn anything into a cell-phone. I mean, ANYTHING. It started with a straw, which you attached around your ear and proceeded to march around the house talking into. You do your best talking while you're walking (me too). Then, it was a french fry, you picked it off your tray, held it to the side of your face and began babbling. You got a pretty good laugh out of us, so the french fry phone has become part of your regular shtick, when you're feeling punchy. Other objects-converted-into-cell-phones include: T.V. remotes, toy cars, rattles, and bottles of baby lotion. Apparently, you've got a lot to say kiddo.
You also excel at making car, train, and airplane noises. Which means you're also really good at making any object into a MOVING object.
What else? Oh, the dancing. Sometimes I turn on the radio so you can run around (mostly stomping and kicking) to the music. Every now and then you attempt a forward roll just to mix things up. Slapping your knees is your favorite move. And Ho, Hey by the Lumineers is your favorite song (it has a catchy chorus that you can actually sing along to). You've got excellent tastes and you've really found your groove.
You have a few favorite games too. (1) I like to call Knock-Knock. This entails going around the house and knocking on any closed door we can find and then opening it to see who's there (as you can see, we've gotten pretty creative in the colder months). Knocking on the bathroom door is your favorite because we can see ourselves in the mirror when we open it. (2) Fetch with the dogs. Jack Pup is the best sport, but sometimes you throw the ball AT him (with suprising force and accuracy) instead of FOR him. In which case Jack does the brotherly thing and just walks away, leaving you to play your other favorite game: throw the ball. (3) Hide and Seek. In which you hide but also sometimes hide objects of interest, like the remote control or the couch pillows, in your tent we have set up in the dining room.
You have also developed quite a taste for books (which makes your Dad and I so proud). One of your favorites right now is "Slowly, Slowy, Slowly," said the Sloth by Eric Carle. You also like our coffee table books: one, called Smiles because it's miniature and has black and white photos of all sorts of different people smiling. When we read it we practice smiling, which you are really good at doing (and I hope you always will be). Another is our wedding album. I love when you haul that clunky thing off the table and place it my lap for us to read together. We make up the words as we go along--they're always different--but mostly we practice saying the names of all the family members we see in the photographs. It's a great reminder of who we are, how we got here, and how lucky we are to be together--the three of us.
Everything you do makes us proud son--not just the milestones, but everything in between. Because that's the stuff that makes you YOU.
Love,
Mom
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